Last farewell
by Maddson
Summary: [one-shot] Story of Jean as the last living person from Scouting Legion. [cover image - Arielucia (tumblr)]


This is my first fanfick in English here. It is placed in _Shingeki no Kyojin_ universum, but it's not placed in time - I think it takes place more or less somewhere after the part about Eren tooked by Titans or even futher in alternative history.

I want to thank **Yoru95**, who helped me with beta-reading and correct ALL my mistakes, as English is not my native language. Thank you!

I hope you will enjoy that story, as I'm not really sure how this story sounds in English (as fine as I think?). Well... enjoy!

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He was trying not to sob, pressing the limp body to his chest. Big drafts of air were filling his lungs while he was trying to calm down, but whenever he looked down on the pale face, his heart started to bleed again and again.

'Please.' He was whispering, not knowing what for or to whom. He was the only person who survived. Even if he was bleeding, had mortal wounds and torn muscles... He was the only one, in this full of dead bodies place, who was still consciousness. He knew, however, that it wouldn't last. Titans were coming, sensing a feast from abandoned corpses of the Scouting" Legion. 'Please, not you... Everyone, but not you...' He pressed his face to the cold cheek and closed his eyes. He was trying, with his imagination, to recall the last smile of Armin. When was it? How long ago? Had he ever seen his real, careless bliss?

No, probably not. They had met for the first time recently – even if it felt like years ago. During training, when he – Jean Kirstein – was too busy thinking about benefits connected with Military Police; when he was so self-absorbed, that he hated Eren for having different views – more visionary, more idealistic... Too beautiful to ever become a reality. He envied his dreams and courage of fools. He envied his willingness to give his life for the ideals.

He put his trembling fingers in the blonde hair, dirty and sticky with blood.

They were only kids then. Kids playing war. Only the battle of Trost District made them soldiers. Forced them to think strategically, use acquired skills, find leaders in themselves. Many of them lost life then... Only those who were ready for this survived... And those who were more lucky than others. He also stayed alive at the cost of the lives of those he had led to the fight. Cost of Marco's life...

He embraced Armin tighter and clenched his teeth.

But for this smartass, he probably wouldn't be strong enough to carry on (with his life), knowing that he caused the death of a few people. Lack of his best friend only deepen his nightmares. Arlert was always there. Since Jeager had turned out to be a titan and had been separated from loved ones, Armin was as lonely as Jean. He had no family, no perspectives for the future... Still, he woke up on every scream of Jean just to sit with him until the dawn; to not allow nightmares to come back. Even if Jean had never thanked him for that, even if he swore that Armin should mind his own business, he actually appreciated boy's company. Every night, he tried to open his heart to Armin more and more, taking into account his advice and trusting his intuition.

With time, he became his new best friend, his support in the stench of death-filled life. This didn't mean, however, that he forgot about Marco. With each of them he had something else in common. The death of Marco gave his life goal, while friendship with Armin strengthened him, helped in self-understanding and during the hardest moments.

He swallowed with difficulty and kissed Arlert's forehead.

Armin had saved his life many times. Not only figuratively, but also literally. He was ready to give his life for him. And now... he was dying in his arms without faith in himself to the end.

'You are- you were the best,' he whispered in a trembling voice. 'Too smart and sensitive for this brutal world. Too-' Somewhere in the distance the agonizing groan came. He swallowed and looked around. He was sitting surrounded by bodies, dismembered and bent in unnatural poses, in the river of blood, not knowing which stream was his and which are others.

They were dying for a better future and he had no opportunity to say goodbye. To none. Not even once. But still... He could die next to the person close to his heart, counting on that, in Heaven – or whatever it is after death – he will meet with everyone and, without any stress, they will be able to find the ocean - open sea filled with the tears of humanity.

He interlaced his fingers with Armin's. He felt dizzy and knew he would die soon. Blood was pouring in streams all over him and he didn't even care. He didn't see any sense in further life. Not now, when all his friends were dead. Not now, when the only person who could draw him from the well of depression after Marco's death was lying in his arms dead. If Armin survived a little bit longer, he would've told him how much he had loved his stories about life behind the Walls. How much he had loved his smile – even if it was only a shadow of true bliss. About that even if he had a fragile body, he had been one of the strongest ones from 104th Traineese Squad and that he was the most intelligent person he had ever met.

That's what he loved about him.

However, it was too late now. Tears were trickling down his cheeks, while he was losing his senses. He felt his life slipping away and into the depths of nothingness... He closed his eyes, accepting the coming of the executioner. He had been ready for this for a long time. For the last time, he imagined his friends' faces. Armin's face.

Would they be waiting for him on the beach when he woke up?

How do the beach and ocean even look? Is there anything like this, anyway?

Is there really a life after death...?


End file.
